


To fall apart, To charge headfirst

by Nessarin_the_greatish



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (Keith is just mentioned though), Ambiguous/Open Ending, Canon Compliant, Heavy Angst, Just when Keith is gone lol, Keith/Lance (Voltron) Angst, Langst, M/M, Not sure what posessed me to write this, Post-Season 5, Sorry?, Sort Of, Suicidal Lance (Voltron), Suicidal Thoughts, at 1am, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 17:42:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15778935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nessarin_the_greatish/pseuds/Nessarin_the_greatish
Summary: Lance would rather feel it everywhere else, that merciless hunger tearing bits of his heart and leaving holes.Lance would rather feel nothing at all.





	To fall apart, To charge headfirst

**Author's Note:**

> So I don't know why I even started writing this. It's just very angsty and it's literally 1am. Maybe I'll make a part 2?? Probably not, I don't know really. I hope you enjoy...or don't cry too much?
> 
>  
> 
> [ My tumblr (klance sideblog)](https://all-klanced-out.tumblr.com/)

The emptiness consumes him, eats away at him, but Lance refuses to let the emptiness win.

There's an unnerving silence in his ear, a hole in the space beside him. But Lance will shout, he'll scream to rid himself of nothing and fill the space that's been left. He'll lie down and splay out his body over it, sealing it temporarily.

Until he has to get up and face his problems. He has to stop shouting at some point or his throat will start to scream at him, becoming raw and scratchy.

He should be in bed, sleeping, or _trying_ to sleep. Trying to let his problems fizzle out in favour for the blissful fog he craves. Lance can't do it. And it doesn't come.

Instead of sleeping, he finds himself creeping out of bed, leaving the hole and the silence behind as he slips away. Walks around. His feet pad along the hallway gently, and Lance savours that. Savours that steady beat he's got going on.

Then he stops. Everything is off balance. It always is. It wasn't, but ever since--

Lance is turning around, back to his room, only to take off his robe and put on some actual clothes. And his feet carry him to the training deck, against his will it seems, because his heart tells a different story.

Lance's heart chastises him, pounding wildly, pleading for him to leave. It's as if his heart is set on bruising his ribcage. Which Lance doesn't mind.

There's something alluring about it all, so he tosses the pleas aside and trudges on, down to the deck.

"Begin training sequence 3."

The words are crisp and clear in the stale air, and Lance likes that for once, he is heard, and just like that, a bot is hurling his way and Lance is intent on destroying it.

It charges at him with power, with purpose, and what with his frantic heartbeat and his lack of practice at close combat, Lance is easily out matched. He doesn't mind.

The bot swings out his metallic arm, sword catching the light and producing a temporary wind. The blow lands at Lance's side, has him stumbling back. Has him falling. The weapon is by no means sharp, but it still stings, pain searing all throughout his left side briefly. Reminds him of a heartbeat-

**(He wonders if it'll bruise)**

-And honestly, the pain feels like life, the sting erases the hole for a moment, the sharp hiss at the blow is music to his ears.

Yeah. Lance could get used to this.

Intentionally, he doesn’t end the training sequence while he is still steadily, blissfully wallowing in the pain. The robot can come at him again. He doesn't mind. Of course, his brain has a different response when the bot barrels towards him once more-

**(Fight or flight?)**

-Lance dodges out the way before scrambling onto his feet, and comes charging right back at it, a battle cry ringing across the empty room.

**(He's empty too.)**

Lance strikes the bot at its core.

"End training sequence."

The life whirring from the metallic fighter is all but a dormant buzz now.

 _In. Out. In. Out._ He breathes. Because that's how one breathes. And Lance can still breathe. Sometimes he feels he doesn't want to-

Sweat is slicked across his forehead, and he wears it like a crown. His chest heaves in an attempt to catch his breath-

**(But does he have to catch it?)**

-And Lance knows where he was struck, which muscle was landed on sloppily, causing an ache. He feels all of it and Lance doesn't mind, Lance doesn't mind, because he doesn't have to think about war, about his team, about _Keith_ -

Lance had promised himself he wouldn't mention that name. He wouldn't say it, he wouldn't breathe it, he wouldn't _dare_ think of it. He had promised himself this, because when he did mention him, his heart gaped, torn open with someone's bare hands, and the hole grew. The silence became suffocating, something he couldn't stifle.

Lance would fall apart.

Lance is falling apart.

Lance would rather have the pain be everywhere else.

"Begin training sequence 4."

Lance would rather suffer.

**(It listened)**

\--

"Begin training sequence 5."

**(It listened)**

\--

"Begin training sequence 6."

**(It would always listen)**

\--

"Begin training sequence 7."

**(Lance likes that)**

\--

"Begin training sequence 8."

**(Lance appreciates that)**

\--

"Begin training sequence 9."

 **(Lance** **cherishes that)**

\--

"Begin training sequence 10."

**(Lance wonders why)**

\--

"Begin training sequence 11."

**(Lance wonders why it still listens)**

\--

"Begin training sequence 12."

**(Lance wonders when he'll stop)**

\--

"Begin training sequence--"

**(Maybe never.)**


End file.
